


a teenager in love

by very_tired_child



Series: the three-moment playlist [2]
Category: Sam & Max (Comics), The Adventures of Sam & Max: Freelance Police (Cartoon)
Genre: Jenny Talarico, M/M, Melon Hargraves, and yes its the horrible cartoon version, canon compliant dumb teens, many references, suffer, takes place when theyre in highschool, wow that's the first time they've been used huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/very_tired_child/pseuds/very_tired_child
Summary: It's a warm spring day, and Sam is very nervous.
Relationships: Max/Sam (Sam & Max)
Series: the three-moment playlist [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189859
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	a teenager in love

It’s a beautiful spring day at Holy Smokes Junior High, and Sam is kind of freaking out.

Now, from that first sentence, you would expect one of three things -- either the building is on fire, some important and beloved teacher just suddenly retired, or this Sam fellow is in trouble with the school authorities (which he usually is, but that’s irrelevant.) However, Sam is an anthropomorphic teenage dog in a wig attending a highschool named after a middle school, so of course it isn’t something so mundane. No, his dilemma is perhaps the greatest ever faced in Holy Smokes, a challenge so daunting that lesser students would faint at the prospect. Why, this is something that could very well change Sam’s life forever.

He’s going to ask Max to prom.

Sam bounces his foot beneath the lunch table, trying to look nonchalant as he flips through an almost out-of-date fashion catalog. Max still isn’t here yet -- he went to the vending machine to get some chips and has probably gotten his hand stuck again -- but it’s only a matter of time.

He pulls a sandwich out of his bag and takes a bite, hoping it’ll distract him. It doesn’t. It’s old and greasy and has a taste that can only be described as “head cheese”, and it’s giving him an inexplicable feeling of deja vu. Now he just feels lightheaded. He throws it in the direction of the trash bin and misses miserably, the old meat splattering against the floor. He always did have bad aim.

Ironically, the thing that distracts him is Max. The tiny lagomorph hops up to the table from out of nowhere, placing his butt directly on a (thankfully empty) paper plate. 

“Hey, Sam! Still lost in the dizzying abyss of fashionable menswear?” he says, tearing into a glazed mcguffin like his life depends on it. “Y’know, I’d lend you my incredibly stylish clothes to wear if you got on your knees and begged.”

“So you say, but we both know I’m not your size.” Although sometimes, Sam wishes he still was. He’s grown so tall and lanky in the past couple years that his wardrobe has gone through several complete overhauls, and Max is bitter about not having grown at all. Of course, this train of thought always leads to the mental image of a giant, lanky Max, so Sam quietly thanks god and moves on. 

“I’ll just have to settle for mail-order fashion. It’s a shame my granny only subscribes to the Big and Long Men’s Warehouse. These’ll all be pretty baggy on me,” Sam says.

“On the plus side, you’ll be able to wear them even when you’re old and chunky! Ooh, like that one!” Max points excitedly to a faded blue suit.

“Yeesh. Maybe when I’m 30.”

“Aw, but it even has a complimentary unreasonably tall and thin fedora! If you wore that, I bet your thin head would look like a triangle!” Max giggles at the thought. 

Sam flips through the pages. “True, but it’s still pretty dull. I’d at least like to attend the final event of my studious career in a relatively stylish ensemble, rather than something so nondescript.”

“Don’t say nondescript, Sam.”

Sam adds nondescript to his mental list of words to say more often. 

“Anyway, speaking of which,” Max says, “did you hear who Jenny Tongue-a-rico is taking to prom?”

“Didn’t she ask you just yesterday?”

“Oh, did she? I forgot. Anyway, no, she got invited by Melon Hargraves of all people! Y’know, our old playground nemesis?” Max is practically vibrating with mirth. “And she actually said yes! In front of the whole student body!” 

That is surprising. And entertaining. Sam can’t possibly imagine the night ending well for either of them, what with Jenny’s obnoxious touchy-feeliness and Melon’s unchecked bullyism. He’ll have to smuggle some extra butter for his popcorn. This could be good. Sam already can’t wait to watch the fireworks with Max --

And remembers he hasn’t actually asked Max yet. 

In all honesty, he shouldn’t have to. He and Max have been best friends since the fourth grade, and neither of them have girlfriends, so it’s basically already a given that they’ll go together. But a part of him really wants to. A little, inexplicable, part of him feels like asking Max will make it official.

_Make what official? He’s not sure._

_That they’re inseparable? That nothing and nobody will ever come between them?_

_As much as he loves to overthink things, now is really not the time._

Max is sitting in front of him kicking his feet as patiently as he can, and Sam realizes he’s been quiet for a bit too long. He’s not sure he’s ever really told Max about why he goes silent like this sometimes -- it’s always just been something he does -- but Max has always given him the time he needs to choose his words, however non-sequitur they end up being. It’s something he really appreciates when he considers it.

Wait, he still hasn’t said anything. This is getting awkward. In a panic, he asks the question.

“Are you planning on asking anyone to prom?”

Max perks up. Thank goodness, he’s fine with this new line of dialogue.

“I’m planning on asking... someone, but I want it to be super dramatic and cool and I don’t know if the auto dealership will let me steal another motorcycle to do donuts on, so I might not get around to it,” he says. “What about you?”

“Aw, fudgenuggets.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, I was just planning on asking _you…”_

For a second, Max looks utterly speechless, and Sam is terrified he’s said something he’ll regret. And then, the rabbit bursts into laughter.  
“You’ve gotta be kidding me, Sam! I was gonna ask you!”

And then they’re both laughing. Of course. Of course he’d be his best buddy’s first choice. He should never have been worried. The two of them are like peanut butter and jelly, milk and cookies, randomly-picked food with socially acceptable compliment. It just wouldn’t be prom if he didn’t have Max with him; hell he wouldn’t be living without the guy, and

Sam has an epiphany. One he does not mention to anyone.

“Well, if we’re gonna be a duo we should at least get some tacky matching ties,” Max says, obliviously flipping through the magazine. “Hey, these ones look awful! Oooh, and they’re clip-ons! C’mon, let’s get ‘em! Please!”

“Absolutely, little buddy! You can never go wrong with a clip-on tie.”


End file.
